by ANDREA SMITH
‘What are you saying?” I whispered hoarsely. I could tell that my eyes were lit up like fireflies at his insinuation.
“I think you’re smart enough to know what I’m saying here. You’re sexually uptight. You admit to faking orgasms and despite that, you simply don’t perform well in the sack. Because of my love for you, I’ve been willing to overlook that part of it, but you put it out there, babe. I didn’t. Honestly, are you even interested in men? Have you considered the possibility you may prefer female intimacy?”
“What?”
“I’m not accusing, I’m just tossing it out there. I’m confused. You tell me, Peyton, what do we do?”
I sat straight up and willed myself not to let his words tear me apart – at least not until he was gone. “What we do,” I said calmly yet deliberately, “is not let the door hit your ass on the way out.”
Eva arrived home around nine o’clock and I’d done my best to repair the exterior damage done by Stuart’s revelation that I was either gay or simply horrible in bed. I had decided this was yet one more thing I wasn’t going to share with Eva.
Instead of continuing on with the crying jag I had going, I pulled on my big girl panties, discarded the trashy lingerie, and spent the rest of the afternoon downloading porn. After all, I was a quick study with everything else, so why should sexual technique be the exception?
Fifteen minutes into the porn-a-thon, I found myself feeling what I could only guess was horniness. That was new. And not at all unpleasant if I could figure out a way to scratch that itch. Then it dawned on me!
I leapt from the bed and dug around in my closet until I found the bag of those battery operated doodads Eva had bought for me from The Story of O Sextique.
Following the direction on cleaning and inserting the batteries, and the general operating instructions, my first choice was something called The Power Bullet Mini Vibrator. She had purchased another toy that was unmistakably a replica of a curved penis, popping veins and all and the printing on the cover of the box labeled it as the “All American Whopper Dong.” It did, after all, guarantee the most realistic experience.
Uh…thanks, but no! I was in the market for something much better than what reality had thus far provided, thank you very much!
So, the Power Bullet it was. It seemed less intrusive for some reason, and after reading the product features pamphlet, I was impressed to learn it had a wireless push button control, several vibrating speeds and was waterproof in case I wanted to use it in the shower, which in fact I did. I decided it would be the best place for my break-in session at sexual self-exploration.
An hour later, feeling thoroughly invigorated, squeaky clean, and totally liberated, I finally knew what all the fuss was about!
Thank you, Eva!
“So, how was your weekend?” she asks, plopping down on my bed. She’s being polite. What she really wants to do is tell me how fantabulous her weekend was with Marcus.
“It was the usual. Stuart is back home. Oh, and I had a genuine orgasm this weekend. Actually, I had two.”
“Oh my God, seriously?” she squeals as if I’ve given her much more exciting news than that, but hey, I am rather proud of myself. “So, Stuart finally brought one home, huh? And a double header at that. Nice.”
“Actually, Stuart wasn’t even in the same zip code when it happened. I finally opened up one of those sex gadgets you bought for me this afternoon. Thanks by the way.”
“Dude, you mean to tell me you are just now getting around to that?” she asks, her eyes bugging out. “As in, this was your first ‘O’ ever?”
I bow my head in faux shame. “Yes and yes. I’ve already mentally kicked my ass on that one, so chill. I get it. And it sure as hell isn’t going to be my last.”
She relaxes back and that dreamy look that means she’s thinking about Marcus makes an appearance. I take the cue.
“So, the big question is, how did your weekend go with Marcus?”
Eva smiles and curls up on the bed next to me, telling me in minute detail every blissful piece of her two days spent with Marcus. And true to her word, they still haven’t done the deed yet. But by the sparkle in her eyes, and the way “Marcus” spills across her lips like a caress each time she says his name, I know it won’t be long.
She is definitely in some sort of love-struck nirvana.
I hate her.
I love her.
I envy her.
I’m happy as fuck for her.
Chapter 14
Weston wasn’t sure what to expect when he walked into his Tuesday afternoon session with Penny. He’d been turning it over in his mind the past two days. His instincts told him that Penny was likely clueless about Stuart being a cheating son of a bitch. As much as she was prone to using her position of tutorial power as a means of academic Early American Lit torture on him, he was finding it extremely uncomfortable having to face her knowing that the dude she thought was her boyfriend – as in exclusive – was dipping his stick into another well.
Penny didn’t deserve that shit no matter how often they tangled. Then he remembered the sexy lingerie she had purchased and he had discovered while snooping.
Fuck if he didn’t feel like a total tool at the moment. The thing that puzzled him the most was what was in it for Stewie? Was Penny some wealthy nerd socialite that he had latched onto for the long haul? Was his game to keep her content while making others happy for recreational purposes?
Dick bag.
As much as he had to own the fact that, at times, he was a manwhore in every sense of the word, Weston could honestly say he could never cop to that kind of deception. That was simply not in his character, nor would it ever be.
Despite the fact that he had no interest in forming some romantic liaison like Marcus seemed to be doing with Eva, he still wouldn’t lower himself to being a dick like Stewie. Weston simply made no pretenses with any chicks.
He was honest, pragmatic, and a stickler for safe sex no matter what. He wasn’t one to put himself or anyone else in sexual harm’s way. That’s not to say that he didn’t get his kicks when applicable, but it was always a consensual thing. I mean, he prided himself on the fact that he had boundaries. He wasn’t into the dominance thing that had become so popular after that Fifty Shade’s bullshit and the books and movies that followed.
He knew his younger sister, Carson, had been pulled into that shit and seemed to enjoy it, but he knew this only because she had confided in him. She hadn’t been complaining, in fact, it was more like bragging. He had cut her off, telling her it was too much fucking information, and he wasn’t impressed. She had laughed and called him uptight. He wasn’t even sure it was true. Carson had a way of trying to shock people, but he was immune to shock for the most part.
Fucking imagine that?
Penny wasn’t in the room yet. He pulled a candy bar from his backpack. It was a Snickers Bar. Everyone liked Snickers. He had heard chocolate was some type of a mood elevator too.
Several minutes passed and he started to wonder if she’d be a no-show when he heard her footsteps coming into the room as she closed the door behind her.
She was fucking humming. That was new.
She saw the candy bar on her desk and picked it up, turning it over and then she looked at him. “Bribery will get you nowhere, Matthews. You’d better have come prepared today,” she said. She gave him a smile as she dropped the candy bar into her purse. “But I do appreciate the gesture.”
“Ready to get started?” she asked.
Oh fuck. She was still clueless about her philandering ass of a boyfriend. The schmuck must have gotten away with his sneaking around bullshit.
“Nice weekend?” Weston asked, studying her face for a glimpse of something.
“It had its moments,” she replied, unzipping the front pocket and pulling out a folder. “How was your weekend? Carve any more notches into the old bed post?”
Weston gave her a smile. He wasn’t going to fall for the bait. The poor
chick, as bitchy and Nazi-like as she was, still deserved to know the truth. “Actually, my weekend was pretty lame. I did accidently find out that a…uh…a guy I sort of know is cheating on his girlfriend. I guess I’m not sure what I should do about it.”
Several moments of silence followed. He wasn’t sure if Penny had even heard him until she broke the silence, and she was clearly irritated.
“Why is it up to you to get involved at all?” Penny snapped. “What if you’re wrong? Sometimes things aren’t what they seem, you know? My advice is to stay out of it.”
Weston was puzzled by her reaction. Maybe she preferred being in denial. It certainly seemed that way by her emotional response. Maybe a different approach was necessary.
“Now, if we’re done with the small talk, let’s move on to Jane Austen, shall we?”
Chapter 15
Oh. My God.
Is Marcus cheating on Eva? Ever since that little convo went down with Weston in our session this afternoon, I couldn’t think of anything else.
But wait. Weston has other friends besides Marcus, right? There’s that guy named Alex. And shit, who was the other one that was with them that night at Big Daddy’s?
Hell, it’s entirely possible Weston was referring to someone else entirely. Marcus may be his best friend, but certainly not his only friend.
Besides, Eva and Marcus were together all damn weekend. I’m sure they weren’t out of one another’s sight except when they went to their respective rooms. She’d mentioned that they’d stayed at the home of one of the other kid’s parents.
Damn!
I could kick my own ass for not paying more attention to what she had told me. I’m positive she said the girls shared a room and the guys were in another; something about the parents being uptight or religious or some shit like that.
But the fact remains that Eva hasn’t slept with Marcus yet and maybe it’s that whole “men have needs” thing. Still, it doesn’t explain why Weston would even be bothered about it. Jesus! If anyone’s dick had no conscience it has to be Weston Matthews’!
I’m ninety-nine point nine percent sure that he was referring to some other friend, but just to be sure, I’ll quiz Eva a bit about the others in that jock pack.
Eva’s home before me on Tuesdays, which means I have to change out of my “Penny” garb in the nasty ass bathroom at the Sunoco station around the corner. I know that I’ll be seeing more of her now that hockey practice has ramped up. Hardwick plays their first game or match or whatever it’s called at home this coming weekend. Saturday, I think she said.
Boston College. Everyone (who cares about hockey, I guess) is concerned because Hardwick’s goalie is out for six weeks. From what Eva says, Weston is the bomb at playing that position. She quoted me his stats, which clearly went over my head.
I’ve noticed him keeping his left leg extended during our sessions. Apparently, he fucked up his knee and he’s wearing a brace.
I have never understood the whole draw to contact sports. Broken bones, dislocated joints, torn tendons, pulled muscles – what’s the point? It’s beyond me so I wipe it from my thoughts and focus on Eva and how I best approach her with my questions.
I’m presented with my first opportunity ninety seconds after I cross the threshold.
“Guess what?” Eva chirps, flying out of the kitchen when she hears the apartment door shut behind me. “Hey, I love those jeans. Are those new?”
“Yes. And I give up,” I reply, hanging up my jacket.
“I can’t believe you’re wearing skinny jeans. About fucking time. You totally rock them by the way.”
“Why do I feel you’re buttering me up for something?” I ask, eyeing her suspiciously.
“Can’t I give my best friend a compliment? I love it that you’re actually starting to show off your body for a change. Sue me.”
“Sorry,” I say with a grin. “And thank you. So, what’s up?”
“Marcus’ fraternity is hosting this year’s Hardwick Halloween Gala Ball and we’re both invited! It’s being held downtown at the Crowne Plaza because it is the event of the fall season!”
“Awesome,” I mumble, not bothering to fake enthusiasm because nobody knows better than Eva does that I’m not the “party girl” type. Like, at all.
“Oh now come on, Pey. This is different. We’ll figure out some great costumes – but we have to keep them secret from the guys Marcus says. No one is supposed to know who anyone else is, that’s the fun of this event.”
Rewind---what?
“Seriously? What’s the point of that?”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at my cluelessness. “Because, the fun of it is to see who you end up with. I mean, of course, at the end of the night everyone can unmask if they want to, but I’m not worried about it because I know my female instincts will kick in hard. I’ll end up with Marcus.”
“Then why in the world do you want me there?” I ask.
“I told you. This is the event of the fall season. It’s huge and it’s fun and you need to get out and socialize. You never do anything fun.”
Now I award her with an eye roll. But I’ve got an opening here so I use it. “Will all of Marcus’ frat buddies have their girlfriends with them? I mean, if everyone is coupled up, maybe I should see if Stuart wants to take me so I won’t be a third wheel?”
“You really think Stuart would enjoy a costume ball?”
“Well, he might. I just don’t want to feel like a loner there, you know?”
She nods, pulling an apple from the bowl on the table and rubbing it against her sweat shirt. “Well, to answer your question, I can’t speak for the entire fraternity, but as far as the brat pack – that’s what I call the five of them that live together in the house – only Marcus is bringing a date. The others, if they all go, are going stag.”
“Is Marcus the only one that has a girlfriend?”
She actually blushes. I can’t believe it.
“Alex isn’t dating anyone right now, and neither is Drake. Weston is…well, Weston, what can I say? And Kevin and his girlfriend, Jackie, just broke up, so I doubt if he even goes.”
“Did she break things off with him? Was he cheating on her or something?”
“What’s up with you all of a sudden? Are you crushing on Kevin or what?”
“No. I don’t even know Kevin. I was just curious. I figure you have the intel since you’re over there a lot.”
She takes a bite of her apple and shrugs. “I don’t pry,” she says, her mouth full of apple, “But I get the impression he broke up with her because she was getting all needy and high maintenance. Guys don’t like that shit.”
“So I’ve been told. Well, let me think about it, okay? You might need me to cover your shift if it’s on a Saturday.”
“Nope. Got it covered. And you’re going, that’s final.”
“We’ll see.”
Maybe going along to that party wouldn’t be such a bad idea. After all, I’m way more equipped to out a philandering asshole with my educational background than Eva, especially now that’s she’s parked her female intuition in the clouds. I’ve got my best friend’s back.
Once in my room, I log on to my email account.
Fuck!
There’s one from Stuart. I debate opening it, but my curiosity wins out. I knew I’d hear from him eventually. Just took three days.
Peyton,
I want to apologize wholeheartedly for making fun of you for trying to be seductive. I realize now how hurtful that must’ve been for you. Please know that I wouldn’t have reacted as such had I known you were being serious. Having said that, I hope everything else I said will be taken in the spirit from which it was given. I care about you. I always will, but I think you need to understand that my words weren’t said out of anger, but rather out of caring and concern. Though I know you’re angry, once your anger subsides, please consider the validity of what I said. Maybe some counseling is in order.
Take care,
My mouth drops open at his audacity. The truth is, all I have felt since he walked out of my apartment Saturday has been a sense of relief. If anything, I had been in denial. But it hadn’t been about my sexuality. Hell, it had been about Stuart!
I now felt empowered, both personally and sexually.
Having watched the porn and subsequently experimenting with that power bullet, I finally got it. I knew that shit about me being frigid was just that: shit! He hadn’t done a fraction of what those real men in the videos had done! I wanted to feel sexy; I wanted to enjoy my newfound sensuality with someone who might return the favor.
The things that those people did on the porn videos I watched? Well, I want those things! And there is nothing wrong with that.
I want a man’s mouth on my pussy; his tongue curled up, and traveling up and down, in and out, and then moving his mouth up to French kiss the sensitive folds. I want his teeth nipping gently at my nub; his fingers splayed against my sex as he slides one into my slick slit, and works some finger fucking magic. And then, when I’m dripping wet, I want him to slip another one in, while his thumb strums my clit, sending shock waves of pleasure pulsing through my entire body. I want to scream when I come and mean it! I want my tits sucked while I grope his hard cock and stroke it until he moans with pleasure.
I’m feeling hot and bothered now. I quickly hit “Reply” to his email and type my message:
Stewie,
No worries. All systems are a “go.” I watched porn. (No wonder I had to fake it.) My advice to you: click on this link and take notes: www.fuckmeraw.com
My screams are real now!
P.
I grab my battery-operated boyfriend and head for the shower. I see an orgasm – maybe two – in my immediate future!
Chapter 16